337, "5 


'^ 


YALE  STUDIES  IN  ENGLISH 

ALBERT  S.  COOK,   Editor 


XII 


THE  SHORT  STORY 


BY 

HENRY  SEIDEL  CANBY 


NEW   YORK 

HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 

1902 


YALE  STUDIES  IN  ENGLISH 

ALBERT  S.  COOK,  Editor 


XII 


THE  SHORT  STORY 


BY 

HENRY  SEIDEL  CANBY 


NEW   YORK 

HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 

1902 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORiNlA 
SANTA  BARBARA 


PREFATORY  NOTE 

Several  paragraphs  in  that  portion  of  the  following  dis- 
cussion which  treats  of  the  relation  between  the  Short 
Story  and  the  novel,  are  quoted,  with  some  alteration, 
from  an  article  in  The  Dial  of  October  i6th,  1901,  in 
which  I  approached  this  particular  differentiation  with  a 
narrower  view  than  the  one  which  I  have  endeavored  to 
take  in  this  essay.  For  very  helpful  suggestions,  valua- 
ble criticism,  and  kind  encouragement  in  this  attempt  to 
define  the  Short  Story,  I  wish  especially  to  thank  Profes- 
sor Wilbur  L.  Cross.  I  am  indebted,  also,  to  Professor 
Albert  S.  Cook,  Professor  Charles  S.  Baldwin,  and  to 
other  members  of  the  Yale  faculty  for  enlightening  criti- 
cism, and  to  Mr.  Chauncey  B.  Tinker  for  help  in  reading 
proof.  I  shall  be  deeply  gratified  if  this  investigation  con- 
tributes in  the  slightest  degree  to  a  clearer  conception  of 
a  very  interesting  literary  form. 


THE  SHORT  STORY 

In  all  criticism  there  may  be  distinguished  a  literary 
algebra  which,  by  the  use  of  a  v/ord  or  a  phrase  for  a 
development  or  a  tendency,  greatly  facilitates  thinking 
and  writing.  'Sentimentalism,'  'preraphaelite,'  'im- 
pressionistic, '  are  such  words,  and  very  useful,  although 
almost  defying  exact  definition.  'Sentimentalism'  now 
stands  for  a  much  wider  range  of  ideas  than  the  early 
eighteenth  century  would  have  found  in  it,  and  in  a  like 
manner  the  simple  term  'short  story'  seems  to  have 
taken  to  itself  a  meaning  only  partially  indicated  by 
the  adjective  'short.'  For  the  sake  of  clearness  in 
language,  it  is  essential  that  the  use  of  this  expression  as 
a  symbol  should  first  be  made  clear,  and  then  justified. 
Such  is  the  purpose  of  this  discussion,  and  the  attempt 
will  demand  a  clear  statement  of  that  which  differ- 
entiates the  Short  Story  from  the  novel  and  the  narrative 
which  happens  to  be  short.  For  this  last  extensive 
genus  I  will  henceforth  use  the  word  'tale,'  and  keep 
'Short  Story'  for  a  subdivision,  perhaps  a  distinct 
nineteenth  century  development,  which  will  show  not 
only  that  literary  individuality  which  any  careful  reader 
must  feel,  but  definable  qualities  as  well. 


Tales,  short  narratives,  usually  of  one  episode,  have 
of  course  existed  since  man  first  felt  the  need  of  turn- 
ing actual  or  imagined  happening  into  words.  Their 
development  from  the  stories  of  the  Egyptian  papyri,  or 
the  fables  of  Pilpai,  or  whatever  beginning  you  are 
pleased  to  take,  has  been  that  of  narrative  in  general, 
and  in  each  literary  period  before  the  nineteenth  century 


The   Short  Story 

the  short  story  differs  from  the  long  principally  in  the 
matter  of  length,  althougli  a  didactic  purpose,  which 
will  be  found  much  more  frequently  in  the  briefer 
variety,  may  cause  some  divergence  in  the  selection  and 
use  of  incident.  But,  as  a  rule,  one  takes  an  episode, 
the  other  ten,  or  condensation  makes  the  difference. 

It  is  possible  to  select  among  the  famous  tales  of  past 
times  a  few  which  will  be  typical.  The  'Cupid  and 
Psyche  '  of  T/ic  Golden  Ass  of  Apuleius,  is  perhaps  the 
best  example  of  the  classic,  and  'Ruth'  of  the  Biblical. 
For  one  type  of  the  mediaeval  'The  Patient  Griselda' 
of  the  Decameron,  and  for  another  Amis  and  Amile 
will  be  representative;  and,  of  a  very  different  nature, 
that  tale  of  the  courtesan,  and  the  hypocritical  scholar 
and  the  spendthrift,  her  prey,  in  Green's  A  Groat's 
M'orih  of  Wit  for  a  Million  of  Repentance,  of  the  late 
sixteenth  century,  will  stand  for  that  period.  Do  these 
differ  in  genus  from  longer  stories  of  their  times,  from 
Daphnis  and  Chloe,  from  Reynard  the  Fox,  from 
the  prose  romances  of  chivalry,  from  Nash's  Jack 
Wilton  ?  Scarcely,  for  they  are  all  simple  narrative, 
designed  first  of  all  to  tell  a  story.  In  one  case  the  plot 
is  slighter,  or  perhaps  there  is  but  one  main  episode,  or 
there  is  condensation,  and,  seemingly,  no  other  impor- 
tant distinction. 

And  this  is  illustrated  by  the  story  of  Ruth,  one  of 
the  best-told  and  most  beautiful  stories  in  literature. 
Naomi,  with  her  daughter,  returns  out  of  the  country  of 
Moab  into  Bethlehem  at  the  beginning  of  the  barley 
harvest.  Ruth  gleans  in  the  fields  of  Boaz,  her  kinsman, 
and  gains  his  love.  He  marries  her,  and  so  ends  the  story. 
This  is  simple  narrative,  which,  aping  history,  purports 
to  select  from  the  events  which  are  supposed  to  have 
happened  all  those  necessary  to  give  a  true  account  of 
the  episode.  In  spite  of  the  perfect  unity  of  the  story, 
this  method  might  readily  be  continued,  in  such  a 
way  that  our   tale,  without  change,  should   become  the 


The  Short  Story 


first  chapter  in  a  longer  narrative,  which,  supposing  for 
an  instant  that  the  contemporary  novel  were  in  question, 
would  take  a  different  and  a  wider  view,  and  illustrate 
very  probably  the  evil  results  of  such  a  hasty  marriage. 

The  plot  of  'Cupid  and  Psyche'  is  more  extensive 
than  that  of  'Ruth,'  and  covers  a  greater  period  of 
time,  but  it,  too,  is  a  simple  product  of  selection  on  the 
author's  part  from  a  certain  amount  of  imagined  inci- 
dent. If  he  had  cut  out  less,  or  added  more  episodes, 
the  story  would  have  been  a  long  one;  thus  the  actual 
tale  is  merely  a  condensation  of  a  hypothetical  narrative 
of  greater  length.  Successful  condensation,  to  be  sure, 
requires  an  art  of  its  own,  a  very  nice  choice  of  incident 
and  a  very  efficient  setting  forth  of  character,  but  this 
is  scarcely  enough  to  supply  a  dividing  line  between  the 
long  story  and  the  short  tale. 

Nor  is  it  possible  to  foist  a  definition  upon  the  intrigue 
stories,  the  novelle  and  \he  fabliaux  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
and  say  when  they  differ  from  an  incident,  let  us  say,  in 
a  picaresque  novel.  In  'The  Patient  Griselda*  of 
Boccaccio  the  treatment  is  not  altogether  natural ; 
character,  atmosphere,  and  verisimilitude  are  sacrificed 
to  the  action,  and  even  the  conception  of  a  long-suffer- 
ing woman  serves  principally  to  make  the  plot  go.  The 
friendship  of  Amis  and  Amile  is  a  like  impelling  force, 
and  there  are  dozens  of  stories  in  the  Decameron  and 
the  Gcsta  Romanorum  and  like  collections  which  are 
skeletons  merely.  But  pad  out  with  details,  construct 
an  extension  at  either  end,  and  you  have  a  novel  of  the 
Smollett  type  without  change  of  form.  Select  certain 
'dovetailable'  stories  from  the  Decameron,  clip  off  the  first 
and  last  paragraphs,  normalize  the  principal  characters, 
and  you  can  obtain  a  structure  with  a  notable  resem- 
blance to  certain  portions  of  Gil  Bias,  or  Humphry 
Clinker,  minus  the  general  reflections.  The  tale  in  a 
Groat's  Worth  of  Wit,  thus  treated,  could  easily  be 
smuggled  into  fack  Wilton. 


The  Short  Story 

What  has  been  said  of  'Ruth'  will  apply  to  tlie  eigh- 
teenth century  tale,  althou;^^h  the  short  narratives  which 
are  to  be  found  scattered  throu,:;h  the  pages  of  the 
Spectator,  the  Guardian,  and  other  periodical  publi- 
cations of  the  age,  may  be  noted  as  partial  exceptions. 
Tliese  stories,  as  Mr,  Walter  Morris  Hart  points  out 
in  his  Hazi'ihorjic  and  the  Short  Story,  are  a  develop- 
ment of  the  periodical  essay.  They  are  intended  to 
illustrate  concretely  what  the  essay  might  fail  to  explain 
as  well  by  general  exposition.  Upon  this  assumption  he 
proceeds  to  derive  the  Short  Story  from  the  periodical 
essay,  and  with  his  conclusion  I  shall  have  to  do  later. 
But  the  point  to  be  emphasized  here  is  that  while  these 
stories  are  intended  to  make  an  explanation  more  telling, 
and  therefore  have  a  purpose  beyond  that  of  simple 
narrative,  they  may  be  detached  from  their  context,  and 
this  purpose  excluded.  They  become  then  simple  tales, 
although  the  selection  of  incident  will  here  lead  toward 
the  exposition  of  the  point  to  be  made,  just  as  in  the 
intrigue  stories  it  favors  the  development  of  the  plot. 
So  with  Christ's  parables,  or  the  moralized  beast-tales, 
and  v/ith  all  fables  which,  throughout  the  ages,  have 
been  told  with  a  more  or  less  didactic  purpose.  These 
eighteenth  century  stories  are  all  more  or  less  of  the 
same  type,  but  they  constitute  no  new  development  in 
literature.  To  select  a  few  at  random,  the  'Letter 
from  Octavia  Complainmg  of  the  Ingratitude  of  Her 
Husband,'  which  is  No.  322  of  the  Spectator,  is  a 
good  example,  whose  text  is  the  inadvisability  of  marry- 
ing a  man  above  you,  as  that  of  the  'Letter  from  Sir 
John  Envil,  married  to  a  Woman  of  Quality,'  No.  299  in 
the  same  periodical,  is  the  inconvenience  of  marrying  a 
woman  of  greater  rank  than  yourself.  Both  of  these, 
apart  from  their  explanatory  introduction,  are  simple 
tales  requiring  no  moral  reflection,  just  as  'Ruth'  does 
not  require  that  one  should  say,  at  the  end,  'this  shows 
that    one     should   be   humble   in    mind.'     These    tales 

8 


The  Short  Story 

always  tend  to  run  beyond  that  which  is  necessary  for 
the    argument.     'The  Story   of  Theodosius   and    Con- 
stantine,'  No.  164  of  the  Spectator,  is  such  a  narrative, 
and  Dr.  Langhorne  expanded   this  into   a  collection  of 
letters  filling  two  volumes.     Indeed,  these  tales  may  be 
easily  fitted  into,  or  abstracted  from,  the  longer  stories  of 
the   time.     You   cannot  precisely    cut  up   the    Vicar  of 
Wakefield  into   a  certain   number  of    Spectator   stories, 
because  the  Vicar  is  a  novel,  and  there  are  certain  differ- 
ences in  structure  and  treatment,  but  it  is  possible   to 
extract  a  number  of  tales  therefrom,  leavin^^  a  residue 
of  piecing  and  filling.     One  such  tale  would  be  the  trip 
to  the  fair,  in  which  Moses  bought  a  gross  of  green  spec- 
tacles; another   the   intrigue   between    Olivia  and  Mr. 
Thornhill;  the  story  of  George  Primrose's  travels  would 
be  still    another;   and,    by  selection    and  condensation, 
enough  narratives  to  furbish  out  many  Spectators  could 
easily  be  provided,  while  the  moral  reflections  to  precede 
them   might   be   found   in   the   same    text.      Generally 
speaking,  then,  there  would  seem  to  be  no  generic  dis- 
tinction in  narrative  before  the  nineteenth  century  other 
than  narrative    short  and  long,  tales  of  many  episodes 
and  tales  of  one,  with  a  partial  exception  for  fables  and 
such  didactic  tales,  and  with  this  qualification,  that  in 
the  best  of  the  shorter  variety  there  is  usually  a  certain 
husbandry  of  words  and  choice  of  incident  which  indi- 
cates a  consciousness  of  the  necessity  of  doing  a  great 
deal  in  a  little  space.     It  is  partly  this  realization,  with 
a  conception  of  the  power  of  brevity,  that  has  led  to  the 
mechanical  development  of  the  Short  Story. 

If  what  has  been  said  so  far  be  taken  to  indicate  that 
the  ancient  family  of  tales  possesses  no  fundamental 
distinction  except  length,  and  som.etimes  a  certain  point 
of  view,  to  set  apart  its  members  from  narrative  in 
general,  then,  in  order  to  discover  any  originality  in  the 
Short  Story,  it  is  necessary  to  find  a  real  difference 
between    'Ruth,'    a     'Roger    de     Coverley*    paper,    or 


The   Short  Story 

'Isabella  and  the  Pot  of  Basil,"  and  'A  Lodging  for 
the  Night.*  'The  Ship  that  Found  Herself,'  or  'The 
Real  Thing.'  The  difference  is  easily  /v/t  by  the 
reader,  but  the  question  remains,  is  it  merely  mechani- 
cal and  due  to  a  more  dramatic  structure,  or  is  it  of 
deeper  origin? 

In  the  early  part  of  this  century,  Irving  began  the 
publication  of  short  tales  possessing  greater  merit  than 
any  hitherto  produced  here.  These  stories  were  mod- 
eled, presumably,  upon  some  of  the  Spectator  papers, 
and  resemble  them  in  form.  They  are  tales  still,  in  that 
their  purpose  is  simple  narrative,  but  in  careful  work- 
manship and  conscious  art  they  more  closely  approxi- 
mate to  the  modern  Short  Story  form.  Irving's  attitude 
toward  the  children  of  his  fancy  could  not  have  been  far 
different  from  that  of  Boccaccio  or  Chaucer.  He  says, 
in  his  introduction  to  the  Tahs  of  a  Traveler:  'For 
my  part,  I  consider  a  story  merely  as  a  frame  upon 
which  to  stretch  my  materials.  It  is  the  play  of  thought, 
and  sentiment,  and  language;  the  weaving  in  of  char- 
acters, lightly,  yet  expressively  delineated;  the  familiar 
and  faithful  exhibition  of  scenes  in  common  life;  and 
the  half-concealed  vein  of  humor  that  is  often  playing 
through  the  whole — these  are  among  what  I  aim  at,  and 
upon  which  I  felicitate  myself  in  proportion  as  I  think 
I  succeed.' 

Let  us  take  a  story,  'The  Legend  of  Sleepy  Hollow,' 
which  is  an  excellent  result  of  such  a  process,  and  com- 
pare it  with  Hawthorne's  'The  White  Old  Maid,'  a 
Short  Story  in  which  the  element  I  wish  to  bring  forward 
is  slightly  exaggerated,  and  therefore  well-fitted  to  our 
purpose.  'The  Legend  of  Sleepy  Hollow,'  like 
'Ruth,'  is  a  story  of  a  simple  episode,  although,  in  the 
complicated  plot,  the  emphasis  placed  upon  the  denoue- 
ment, and  the  vivid  description,  it  betrays  much  more 
conscious  art.  But  what  is  the  impression  of  the  reader? 
It  can  scarcely  be  called  an  impression,  although  there 


The  Short  Story 

will  be  distinct  pictures  arising  from  the  vividness  of 
the  narrative ;  it  will  rather  be  a  memory  of  a  series  of 
events,  and  to  produce  such  a  record  is  the  aim  of  simple 
narrative.  What  machinery  there  is  in  the  story  con- 
sists mainly  of  devices  to  emphasize  certain  portions,  to 
create  an  atmosphere,  and  to  catch  and  hold  the  interest 
in  the  characters.  Contrast  now  with  this  'The  White 
Old  Maid. '  Very  briefly,  the  plot  is  as  follows :  Two 
young  women  sit  in  a  mysterious  room  beside  the  dead 
body  of  a  youth  they  have  both  loved.  There  has  been 
mysterious  wrong  done  to  him,  now  dead,  and  the  guilty 
one — the  dark  girl  by  his  bedside — is  to  do  penance 
through  suffering  in  the  world  before  she  may  come 
back  to  that  room  to  be  forgiven.  Years  pass,  the 
ancient  house  without  inhabitant  falls  into  gloomy  disre- 
pair; in  the  town  a  mysterious  woman,  robed  in  white, 
follows  for  a  generation  each  funeral.  One  day  she 
appears  without  her  accustomed  cause,  knocks  on  the 
ancient  doorway  of  the  deserted  house,  and,  to  the  con- 
founding of  the  townsfolk,  is  admitted.  A  coach  rolls 
up  the  street,  upon  its  panels  emblazoned  the  arms  of  a 
family  whose  last  representative  has  just  died  abroad. 
An  old  woman  descends,  and  also  enters  the  mysterious 
house.  After  a  while  there  is  a  shriek  heard  from 
within,  and  when  the  aged  minister,  with  one  of  the 
townspeople  bolder  than  the  rest,  has  made  his  way  in, 
and  up  to  the  strange  chamber,  there  is  the  White  Old 
Maid  just  at  the  point  of  death,  and  they  are  too  late  to 
learn  her  secret. 

This,  too,  is  a  story,  in  the  sense  that  something  hap- 
pens; and  yet  the  real  story,  by  which  I  mean  the  narra- 
tive which  would  logically  connect  and  develop  these' 
events,  is  just  hinted  at,  and  is  not  very  important.  It  is 
subordinated,  indeed,  to  a  new  aim.  'The  White  Old 
Maid'  is  narrative  for  a  purpose,  and  this  purpose  is  to 
suggest  an  impression,  and  to  leave  us  with  a  vivid  sen- 
sation rather  than  a  number  of  remembered  facts.     In 


II 


The  Short   Slory 

short,  it  is  contrived,  not  to  leave  a  record  of  such  and 
such  an  old  woman  who  did  this  or  that,  but  rather  to 
stamp  upon  our  minds  the  impression  of  a  mystery- 
haunted  house,  mysterious  figures  entering,  strange 
words,  and  a  terrible  sorrow  behind  all.  Toward  such  a 
result  the  structure  of  the  plot,  every  bit  of  description, 
every  carefully  chosen  word,  directly  tends.  -There  is 
no  rambling,  leisurely  narrative  like  that  of  'Sleepy 
Hollow,'  nor  digressions,  nor  a  natural  sequence  of 
events  such  as  might  be  expected  in  real  life.  The  spell 
of  the  end  is  over  every  word  and  every  choice  of 
incident.  It  is  this,  which,  for  want  of  a  less  abused 
word,  may  be  called  impressionism,  that  is  characteristic 
to  some  extent  of  all  typical  Short  Stories,  and  serves  as 
the  most  fundamental  distinction  between  them  and  the 
earlier  tales. 

Before  going  further,  it  is  v/ell  to  try  to  answer  the 
question  of  source  which  naturally  arises  here,  and, 
without  dipping  far  into  a  historical  inquiry,  it  is  pos- 
sible to  hazard  a  hypothesis.  It  is  evident  that  follow- 
ing the  line  of  influence  of  the  Spectator  papers 
through  Irving  we  discover  and  can  account  for  a  well 
modeled,  carefully  written,  thoroughly  artistic  tale. 
This  would  and  does  account  for  much  in  the  form  of 
Hawthorne's  stories.  It  is  as  easy  to  turn  to  the  roman- 
tic school  of  Germany  for  the  new  elements  which  are 
to  be  discerned  in  this  story  of  'The  White  Old  Maid,' 
and  in  much  more  of  his  work.  In  the  mystical, 
rhapsodical  writings  of  that  school  we  cannot  fail  to  be 
impressed  by  much  that  is  characteristic  of  Hawthorne, 
and  of  Poe  as  well.  Tieck  is  more  like  Hawthorne  than 
is  any  American  writer;  Hoffmann's  characters,  particu- 
larly in  'Master  Martin,'  powerfully  suggest  the  half 
real,  symbolistic  figures  of  Hawthorne's  creation.  In 
the  introduction  to  Serapionsbriuler^  Hoffmann  formu- 
lates a  method  which  was  often  Hawthorne's,  and  is 
certainly   that   of   many  impressionistic,   modern    short 


The  Short  Story 

stories.  'At  least,'  he  says,  'let  each  one  of  us  (the 
Brethren  who  are  to  tell  the  tales)  strive  earnestly  and 
truly  to  grasp  the  image  that  has  arisen  in  his  mind  in 
all  its  features,  its  colors,  its  lights  and  its  shades,  and 
then,  when  he  feels  himself  really  enkindled  by  them,  let 
him  proceed  to  embody  them  in  an  external  descrip- 
tion. ' 

Then  the  resemblance  of  'Feathertop' to  the 'Vogel- 
scheuche'  of  Tieck  has  been  often  pointed  out,  and 
many  another  resemblance.  But  none  of  this  proves 
the  direct  debt  of  the  Short  Story  to  the  Germans. 
Hawthorne  learned  to  read  German,  with  difficulty,  in 
1843 — that  is,  after  much  of  his  best  v/ork  had  been  pub- 
lished. There  were  translations  of  a  few  of  Tieck's 
tales,  to  be  sure,  by  1S25,  but  the  best  were  not  chosen, 
and  it  is  not  to  be  assumed  that  Hawthorne  ever  saw 
them.  As  for  'Vogelscheuche,'  it  was  published  in 
1835,  but  in  the  Berliner  Novellenkranz^  an  'annual,' 
and  Hawthorne  could  not  possibly  have  read  it  until 
after  its  inclusion  in  the  Novellensaimnliing  in  1842. 
But  the  suggestion  for  the  story  is  included  among  the 
many  in  the  American  Note-Books,  and  dated  1840. 
Schunbach,  whose  critical  knowledge  of  the  Germans 
and  the  American  gives  him  an  authoritative  word, 
sums  the  matter  up  very  definitely.  'Aber,  wie  Poe 
glaubte,'  he  says,  'und  seither  mit  ausdauer  nachge- 
schrieben  wird,  dass  Tieck  Hawthorne's  muster  gewesen 
und  von  ihm  nachgebildet  worden  sei,  das  ist  mir  schon 
aus  diesem  inneren  grunde  hochst  unwahrscheinlich. ' 
This  from  his  'Beitriige  zur  Charakteristik  Nathaniel 
Hawthorne's'  in  Englische  Stiidicn^  in  which  he  rea- 
sons the  matter  from  internal  as  well  as  external  evi- 
dence. 

To  trace  an  influence  is  always  difficult,  and  here  the 
result  seems  particularly  doubtful.  The  Germans  of 
the  Romantic  School  felt  much  as  Hawthorne,  and  wrote 
somewhat  like  him,  or  he  like  them;  that  is  about  as  far 


13 


The  Short  Story 

as  it  is  safe  to  go.  The  truth  of  the  matter  seems  to  be 
that  this  indefinable  and  indetinite  element  of  romanti- 
cism seems  to  have  been  in  the  air  of  this  period,  in 
Germany,  in  England,  and  in  America,  and  Hawthorne 
perhaps  derived  his  mysticism,  his  fondness  for  the 
unreal,  his  susceptibility  to  impressions,  much  as  Words- 
worth did  his.  In  fact,  in  many  of  Wordsworth's  poems 
impressionistic  motives  analogous  to  those  which  can  be 
traced  in  most  Short  Stories  are  at  the  root  of  the  writ- 
ing. 'The  Yew  Trees,*  'I  wandered  lonely  as  a  cloud,* 
perhaps  'To  a  Highland  Girl,*  and  many  another,  show 
such  an  origin;  and  Keats  and  other  poets  of  the  period 
will  immediately  suggest  themselves  as  companions,  and 
to  be  classed  with  Wordsworth  in  this  respect.  Think 
for  an  instant  of  the  cause  and  effect  of  the  'Ode  on  a 
Grecian  Urn.'  This  phase  of  romanticism  was  in  the 
air,  then,  and  Hawthorne  may  have  absorbed  some  of 
it  with  the  Spenser,  common  food  of  all  romanticists, 
which  he  read  in  his  youth.  No  doubt,  too,  there  was 
some  leaking  of  German  influence  to  help  the  matter  on. 
But  the  attempt  to  create  an  impression  through  nar- 
rative was  not  thoroughly  successful  in  Germany.  The 
tales  of  Tieck,  and  particularly  of  Hoffmann,  are  too  often 
formless,  rambling,  without  unity.  They  arise  often 
enough  from  impressions,  and  are  intended  to  convey 
them.  Indeed,  in  the  case  of  Hoffmann,  we  have  some- 
times the  history  of  the  actual  impression  to  compare  with 
the  story  which  resulted.  But  these  stories  are  not  good 
Short  Stories,  because  they  do  not  confine  themselves  to 
one  unified  purpose;  they  have  many  of  them  a  motive 
akin  to  that  of  'The  White  Old  Maid,'  but  they  lack 
the  architectonics  necessary  to  convey  it.  The  best 
stories  of  these  authors  will  be  found  thus  deficient — 
such  tales  as  those  in  the  Serapionsbriidcr^  Tieck 's 
'The  Goblet'  or  'The  Fair  Haired  Eckhard.' 
Fouque's  Undine  is  structurally  better  designed  to 
gain  the  end  of  an  impression,  but  this  is  a  compara- 

14 


The  Short  Story 

tively  long  story,  and  ths  impression  the  very  broad  one 
of  the  mystery  of  nature. 

But  Hawthorne,  saturated  with  the  same  spirit,  sus- 
ceptible as  they  to  the  impressions  which  nature,  char- 
acter, strange  incongruities,  horrible  fancies,  made  upon 
his  imagination,  had  at  his  command  the  well-ordered 
instrument  which  Irving  and  his  literary  forefathers  had 
been  polishing  for  their  needs;  and  the  use  he  made  of 
it  is  largely  responsible  for  the  Short  Story. 

This  theory  has  very  little  to  do  with  the  history  of 
impressionism,  and  does  not  assert  that  Hawthorne  was 
among  the  first  of  the  impressionists,  nor,  indeed,  that  a 
Short  Story  writer  is  a  so-called  impressionist  at  all, 
since  that  word  seems  to  possess  a  dangerous  variety  of 
meanings.  But  Hawthorne's  story,  it  seems,  is  intended 
to  suggest  a  picture  to  the  mind  of  the  reader,  or  pro- 
duce an  impression  upon  it,  which  will  resemble  that 
vivid  one  which  either  actually  or  in  imagination  the 
writer  received  when  the  combination  of  the  mysterious 
figure  and  the  strange  old  house,  full  of  gloomy  sugges- 
tions, left  its  record  upon  his  mind.  Indeed  to  convey 
this  seems  to  be  the  main  purpose  of  his  writing,  and, 
throughout,  the  story  is  constructed  to  convey  such  an 
effect.  Poe  had  such  an  attempt  in  mind  in  his  work ; 
he  expresses  it  in  his  criticism  of  the  New  Englander's 
stories:  'If  his  very  initial  sentence  tend  not  to  the 
outbringing  of  this  effect,  then  he  has  failed  in  his  first 
step.'  This  'preconceived  effect'  may  be  regarded  as 
the  impression  which  the  author  wishes  to  convey. 

So  the  nucleus  of  'The  Luck  of  Roaring  Camp'  may 
have  been  the  glimpse  of  a  lank,  rough  figure,  with  a 
tiny  baby  in  its  arms,  and,  in  spite  of  the  excellent  plot, 
a  feeling  akin  to  the  pleasurable  emotion  which  would 
follow  upon  such  a  scene  in  real  life  remains  longest 
with  the  reader.  According  to  this  theory  the  process, 
if  one  should  attempt  to  write  a  Short  Story,  might  be 
something   like   this:     I   leave   my   room    and   meet    a 

15 


The  Short  Story 

drunken  beggfar  reeling  from  the  gutter.  As  I  turn  to 
avoid  him,  he  pulls  himself  together  and  quotes  huskily 
a  dozen  lines  of  Virgil  with  a  bow  and  a  flourish,  and 
stumbles  off  into  the  darkness.  I  make  him  into  a  story, 
and,  be  the  plot  what  it  may,  the  effect  upon  the  reader 
that  I  shall  strive  for  will  be  a  vivid  impression  of  incon- 
gruity, not  far  different  from  that  which  I  felt  when  the 
drunkard  turned  scholar  and  relapsed.  Not  all  short 
stories  can  be  analyzed  back  to  their  basic  element  as 
easily  as  this  one  may  be  built  up,  but  with  many  the 
process  is  easy  and  obvious.  Nearly  every  contc  of 
Maupassant  is  a  perfect  example;  his  titles  'Fear,' 
'Happiness,'  'The  Coward,' would  lead  you  to  suspect 
as  much.  In  the  motifs  and  suggestions  for  stories, 
some  utilized  later,  some  not,  which  may  be  found  in 
quantity  scattered  through  Hawthorne's  American  Note- 
Books,  there  is  often  enough  such  an  impression  noted 
at  the  moment  of  its  inception.  Here,  in  the  American 
Note-Books,  II.  176,  is  'The  print  in  blood  of  a  naked 
foot  to  be  traced  through  the  streets  of  a  town,'  which 
seems  to  inspire  'Dr.  Grimshaw's  Secret,'  and  again, 
N.B.  I.  13,  'In  an  old  house  a  mysterious  knocking 
might  be  heard  on  the  wall,  where  had  formerly  been  a 
doorway  now  bricked  up,'  which  is  applied  in  'Peter 
Goldthwaite's  Treasure;'  also,  'A  stranger,  dying, 
is  buried;  and  after  many  years  two  strangers  come  in 
search  of  his  grave  and  open  it.'  But  Hawthorne  in- 
clined more  often  to  moral,  philosophical  reflections  for 
his  beginnings,  such  as,  'To  make  one's  own  reflection 
in  a  mirror  the  subject  of  a  story,'  afterwards  used  in 
'I\Ionsieur  de  Miroir;'  and  then  his  stories  become 
symbolistic  tales,  or  didactic  narratives,  not  partaking  of 
the  best  qualities  of  the  vShort  Story.  The  best  of  such 
tales,  and  yet  not  to  be  ranked  as  a  typical  Short  Story, 
is  'The  Great  Stone  Face.' 

Kipling  has  written  many  stories  motived  by  impres- 
sions, such  as  'The  Ship  that  Found  Herself,'  and  'The 

16 


The  Short  Story 

Mark  of  the  Beast,'  to  take  two  very  different  stories. 
Indeed,  nearly  every  collection  of  short  stories  may  be 
drawn  upon  for  examples.  In  Henry  James'  story,  'Flick- 
erbridge,'  which  appeared  in  Scribner's  for  February, 
1902,  the  action  of  the  story  can  only  be  explained  by 
the  deep  impression  which  the  quaint,  delightful  lady  of 
Flickerbridge  makes  upon  the  hero,  which  impressioTi 
it  is  the  intent  of  the  author  to  convey  to  the  reader; 
and  so  with  many  another. 

But  the  commonest  variety  is  not  so  simple,  Steven- 
son's 'A  Lodging  for  the  Night,'  Kipling's  'On  the 
City  Wall,'  Bret  Harte's  'The  Outcasts  of  Poker 
Flat,'  Maurice  Hewlett's  'Madonna  of  the  Peach 
Tree,'  and  perhaps  a  majority  of  the  magazine  stories 
of  the  day,  preserve  the  old  desire  to  tell  a  story  well  as 
an  equal  or  the  dominant  motive,  only  modified  by  the 
attempt  to  convey  that  impression  which  was  probably 
at  the  foundation  of  the  narrative.  I  venture  to  say 
that  an  imagined  contrast,  between  the  proud,  God- 
honoring,  simple-minded  seigneur^  and  the  poor  devil  of 
a  Villon,  clever  and  rascally,  was  the  starting  point  for 
'A  Lodging  for  the  Night;'  and  perhaps  a  sight  or  a 
thought  of  such  a  group  as  that  about  the  fire  in  'The 
Outcasts,*  the  pure  and  the  stained,  the  reprobate  and 
the  innocent,  all  under  the  spell  of  a  common  peril,  was 
the  germ  of  that  great  story.  But  in  each  case  the  plot 
is  highly  developed,  and  by  no  means  entirely  aims  at 
these  single  effects,  although  in  each  case  they  are  prob- 
ably sought  as  the  sum  of  the  story. 

This  subdivision  will  naturally  suggest  what  is  known 
as  the  'character  sketch,'  a  form  of  the  Short  Story  in 
which  again  there  is  another  element  besides  that  of 
pure  impressionism.  Take,  for  instance,  Verga's  'Jeli 
the  Shepherd,'  a  story  of  a  simple  herd-boy  of  good 
instincts,  fostered  by  close  association  with  nature,  a 
love  like  hero-worship,  and  a  mind  slow  to  admit  new 
ideas.     The  story  tells  how  he  loves  and  marries  Mara; 

17 


The  Short  Story 

and  when  the  knowledy^e  comes  to  him  that  she  is  false, 
he  merely  works  on  stupidly  until  one  day  the  realiza- 
tion comes,  he  sees  her  with  her  lover,  and  a  man's  throat 
is  cut.  This  story  is  psychological,  it  deals  with  char- 
acter exposition,  but  it  approaches  it  through  an  impres- 
sion; the  attempt  is  first  of  all  to  make  the  reader  feel 
this  simple  herd-boy's  mental  make-up  and  personality, 
and  then,  by  added  incident,  fact,  and  explanation,  ap- 
peal to  the  reason,  that  the  impression  may  be  explained. 
Many  of  Miss  Wilkins'  New  England  stories  are  sim- 
ilarly constructed.  Worn  old  women,  pale  girls  with 
colorless  ideals — Maupassant  would  be  content  with 
making  us  feel  such  types — and  often,  as  in  'Arethusa' 
and  most  of  her  'Understudies,'  Miss  Wilkins  goes  no 
further,  for  'Arethusa*  seems  to  be  the  working  out  of 
that  feeling  which  one  gets  from  a  chance  sight  of  a  shy 
girl  with  the  wild  instincts  of  maidenhood  in  her  eyes, 
and  another,  'The  Monkey,'  the  memory  of  a  home-sick 
monkey  reaching  his  little  arms  restlessly  through  the 
bars  of  his  cage.  But  the  commoner  type  of  character 
Short  Story  deals  with  an  impression  reinforced  by 
psychological  work,  or  motive-seeking,  or  thought- 
exposition,  designed  to  appeal  to  the  reason  of  the 
reader,  to  confirm  and  make  more  complete,  more 
reasonable,  the  impression  he  has  received  from  the 
story.  Bjornson.  Miss  Jewett,  Henry  James,  Turgenieff 
— there  are  dozens  who  have  written  such  stories. 

Mr.  Hart,  in  the  article  which  I  have  already  men- 
tioned, feels  evidently  that  a  purpose  ulterior  to  that  of 
mere  narrative  is  the  characteristic  quality  of  a  Short 
Story,  but  he  takes  this  purpose  to  be  explanatory,  and  a 
proof,  that  an  essay  is  in  the  family  tree,  say  of  the  Plain 
Tales  from  the  Hills.  The  transition  from  the  tales  with  a 
purpose  of  the  Spectator^  which  Irving  imitated  and  Haw- 
thorne studied,  to  the  'impression'  story  of  the  latter 
author,  is  not  difficult,  but  the  step  is  a  long  one,  and 
originality  can  scarcely  be  denied  to  the  latter  form. 


The  Short  Story 

What  appeal  the  Spectator  tale  makes,  beyond  that  of 
its  narrative,  is  to  the  intellect  solely,  while  the  first  aim 
of  the  later  stories  of  which  I  have  been  speaking  is  to 
make  the  reader  feel  that  with  which  the  writer  was 
impressed.  This  point  may  be  illustrated  by  a  com- 
parison of  Spectator  paper  No.  299,  'Letter  from  Sir 
John  Etivil,  married  to  a  Woman  of  Quality,'  with  Miss 
Jewett's  story,  'David  Berry.'  The  first  deals  with 
'those  calamities  and  misfortunes  which  a  weak  man 
suffers  from  wrong  measures  and  ill-concerted  schemes 
of  life,'  that  is,  the  danger  arising  from  marrying 
a  wife  above  his  rank ;  the  second  with  the  downfall  of  a 
virtuous  old  shoemaker,  brought  about  indirectly  by  his 
ambitious  dame.  I  have  quoted  a  line  or  so  from  the 
introduction  in  the  Spectator  paper,  and  it  is  evident  that 
this  story  began  with  an  abstraction,  a  theory,  which  is 
dressed  in  narrative  to  enforce  the  point.  But  it  is  just 
as  clear  that  'David  Berry'  is  first  of  all  an  idea, 
memory,  or  impression  of  this  kindly  old  fellow,  simple 
and  honest  and  over-generous,  and  that  the  moral  side, 
the  lesson  that  one  may  learn,  is  merely  the  almost  inev- 
itable result  which  follows  the  working  out  of  a  charac- 
ter which  would  make  such  an  impression  upon  us. 
One  story  works  from  the  abstract  forward,  the  other 
from  the  concrete  backward.  And  thus  the  line  of 
development  of  the  Short  Story  from  the  essay  source, 
while  in  part  traceable,  is  sufficiently  tenuous. 

Although  this  impressionism,  used  strictly  as  defined, 
when  combined  with  the  other  elements  of  a  Short ' 
Story,  seems  to  make  for  a  new  literary  form,  there  is 
nevertheless  much  earlier  writing  with  impressionistic 
tendencies.  Sterne  is  full  of  it  and  the  Sentimental 
Journey  has  a  kind  of  impressionism  as  its  most  serious 
purpose.  But  the  Sentimental  Journey  lacks  all  the 
other  qualifications  of  a  Short  Story.  It  rambles;  it  has 
no  particular  unity;  it  observes  none  of  the  rigid 
requirements  which  confine  a  Short  Story  to  one  inci- 

19 


The  Short  Story 

dent,  one  main  impression,  and  a  unified,  climactic 
development.  It  would  be  possible  to  select  an  episode 
such  as  that  with  the  glove-merchant's  wife,  or  the  Ji//f 
dc  clianibrc,  which  would  have  a  considerable  unity,  but 
the  impressions  he  chronicles  here  are  slight  ones,  so 
slight  that  a  graceful  style,  wit,  and  chance  hits  can 
convey  them,  and  the  narrative  amounts  to  nothing,  or 
is  there  for  its  own  sake.  Many  poets,  too,  have  been 
praised  for,  or  accused  of,  impressionism,  but,  except  in 
regard  to  sources,  this  is  outside  the  inquiry,  since  it  is 
with  the  Short  Story  as  with  the  novel,  its  elements  are 
to  be  found  elsewhere,  but  it  is  their  combination,  and 
their  development  when  so  combined,  which  results  in 
a  form  distinct  from  its  antecedents. 

The  particular  terseness,  vividness  attained  by  choice 
of  words,  swift  description,  and  speedy  action  character- 
istic of  this  modern  story,  are  all  naturally  employed  in 
the  attempt  to  convey  with  sufficient  force  the  impres- 
sion which  the  author  has  received.  In  the  simple  nar- 
rative  of  the  early  tales  these  devices  are  utilized  to 
some  extent.  But  it  is  this  new,  or  newly  matured, 
purpose,  which  has  brought  to  nicety  that  which  may  be 
called  the  machinery  of  the  Short  Story.  To  tell  a  tale 
well  requires  careful  arrangement  of  events,  a  careful 
proportioning,  careful  adjustment  of  description  and  of 
narration,  of  character  and  action.  But,  by  means  of ' 
this  well  told  tale,  to  make  a  vivid  impression  of  a 
mood,  a  character,  an  incongruity,  a  pathetic  situation, 
or  a  strange'companionship,  as  in  the  'Brushwood  Boy,' 
a  still  more  careful  art  is  necessary.  Every  word  must 
count,  and,  for  the  sake  of  definite  outline,  everything 
not  essential  must  be  rigorously  excluded.  The  result 
is  a  concise,  narrative  picture  of  something  striking  in 
events  or  in  character,  or  in  the  union  of  the  two. 

Suppose  this  process  be  applied  to  a  tale  which  is  to 
be  told  for  the  story  simply,  notably  a  tale  with  a 
reversal.     Should  this  story  be  written  with   the  terse- 


The  Short  Story 

ness,  the  vivid  action,  the  condensed  description,  the 
absolute  unity  and  totality  of  the  Short  Story  form,  the 
result  will  be  a  vivid  impression  of  the  plot,  and  particu- 
larly of  the  reversal,  but  not  an  impresion  in  precisely 
the  sense  which  I  have  used  before.  Many  modern 
stories  may  be  included  here,  of  which  the  ubiquitous 
detective  story,  best  exemplified  perhaps  in  Poe's  'The 
Purloined  Letter,'  is  the  most  familiar.  For  the  tales 
with  a  reversal,  a  surprise  at  the  end,  we  must  look 
to  work  of  a  lighter  mood.  Some  of  H.  C.  Bunner's 
Short  Sixes,  such  a  tale  as  Aldrich's  'Margery  Daw,' 
and  many  familiar  narratives,  will  be  remembered 
and  so  classified.  It  is  very  difficult  to  find  good  Short 
Stories  now  in  which  some  trace  of  the  impression- 
istic element  cannot  be  discovered,  but  those  belonging 
to  the  class  of  'The  Purloined  Letter'  or  'Margery 
Daw'  may  be  said  to  be  tales,  in  the  sense  defined, 
built  along  the  lines  developed  for  the  Short  Story;  and 
this  highly  perfected,  very  dramatic  structure  is  largely 
a  result  of  the  attempt  to  convey  an  impression  by  nar- 
rative. 

IL 

Although  this  hypothesis  of  impressionism  may  give 
us  ground  for  believing  that  the  Short  Story  contains 
elements  which  set  it  apart  from  the  tale,  even  when  its 
purpose  is  not  mainly  suggestive,  yet  it  is  not  a  sufficient 
answer  to  the  interesting  question  of  the  relation  of  the 
Short  Story  to  the  novel.  For  it  is  obvious  that  this 
particular  kind  of  suggestive  purpose  may  figure  largely 
in  a  novel,  even  when  it  is  not  classed  among  those  com- 
monly called  impressionistic.  It  is  possible  to  take,  say 
the  river  episode  in  'The  Ordeal  of  Richard  Feverel,' 
where,  as  you  remember,  Richard  Feverel,  under  roman- 
tic circumstances,  saves  his  future  betrothed  from  a  duck- 
ing, and  to  say  that  Meredith  wishes  to  convey  to  the 


The  Short  Story 

reader  a  vivid  impression  of  the  conjunction  of  the  fresh 
girl  and  the  moody  boy,  whose  spirit  is  tinder  to  her 
spark.  If  this  is  impressionistic,  and  there  is  no  other 
distinction,  then  a  Short  Story  inay  be  merely  an  episode 
abstracted  from  a  hypothetical  novel;  which  is  not  the 
conclusion  I  intend  to  reach. 

It  has  been  said  that  unity  of  impression  is  the 
distinguishing  point,  and  this,  in  a  sense,  is  true,  but  as 
a  definition  it  seems  to  lack  precision.  Poe  used  this 
phrase  in  argument,  and  thought  mainly  of  the  time- 
element.  A  tale  could  be  read  at  a  sitting;  a  novel  must 
be  read  in  gulps,  as  it  were,  of  a  handful  of  chapters 
each,  and  the  impression  which  the  unity  of  the  tale 
should  convey  naturally  suffers.  But  the  phrase  seems 
to  be  used  now  with  reference  to  the  effect  of  the  design 
of  the  narrative  upon  the  reader,  whether  read  in  one 
sitting  or  a  dozen.  A  single,  vivid  impression  is  to  be 
the  result  of  the  Short  Story,  while  many  diverse  yet 
harmonious  impressions  are  to  follow  upon  the  reading 
of  a  novel.  Yet  surely  many  novels,  such  as  George 
Eliot's  Roniola  or  Meredith's  The  Egoist,  leave  a 
unified  impression  not  entirely  differing  from  that  of  the 
definition  above.  In  the  first,  the  degeneration  of  Tito 
Melema  is  not  only  the  central  thread,  but  the  digest  of 
the  whole  story;  as  in  the  other  book  is  the  egoism  of 
Willoughby.  Neither  this  quality,  nor  the  unity  gained 
by  condensation,  is  a  sufficient  justification  for  the 
separate  classification  of  the  Short  Story  and  the  novel. 

There  is  another  way  of  getting  at  this  matter.  The 
great  difference  between  a  poem,  a  historical  essay,  and 
a  novel  upon  the  same  subject,  lies  in  the  point  of  view. 
The  poem  works  through  imagination  and  suggestion. 
The  history  deals  with  the  facts  that  the  poem  almost 
neglects,  and  has  to  do  with  selection  among  these  facts. 
The  novel,  supposing  it  to  be  historical,  uses  first  the 
methods  of  the  history,  leavens  the  result  with  fancy, 
sets  it  forth  suggestively,  and,  keeping  in  view  the  end 


The  Short  Story 

of  art  instead  of  the  necessity  for  truth,  produces  still 
other  results.  Compare,  for  instance,  Carlyle's  life  of 
Cromwell,  Milton's  sonnet  on  Cromwell,  and  Scott's 
novel  based  upon  the  life  of  the  same  hero.  It  is  such 
a  distinction  in  the  point  of  view  which  differentiates  a 
novel  from  a  Short  Story. 

From  the  eighteenth  century  downward  to  near  the 
present  time,  the  great  novelists  have  tried,  from  their 
little  Olympus,  to  get  the  all-embracing  view,  to  record 
the  good  and  the  bad,  the  thought  and  the  action,  the 
youthful  deed  and  the  aged  penalty.  Either  by  details, 
or,  when  that  was  not  practicable,  by  suggestion,  their 
transcription  of  life  has  been  as  full  as  they  could  make 
it.  Their  art  is  always  to  imitate  the  breadth  and  the 
fullness  of  living.  At  one  extreme  of  this  imitation  is 
realism,  and  there  the  picture  is  somewhat  photo- 
graphic; at  the  other  extreme  is  romance,  where  the 
reader's  imagination  is  tickled  into  supplying  much  not 
plainly  told  by  the  author.  In  either  case,  the  life 
depicted  in  the  books,  like  the  life  in  the  world,  has 
many  facets,  and,  even  though  the  multiplicity  of  actual 
experience  may  not  be  present,  the  suggestion  of  it.  if 
the  book  is  good,  will  not  be  lacking.  Thus  this  novel 
is  natural,  in  so  far  as  any  artistic  transfer  of  the  real 
world  into  the  world  of  imagination  can  be  natural. 

But  here  we  must  make  a  further  qualification  and 
separation.  All  modern  novels  do  not  attempt  to  con- 
vey the  suggestion  of  the  whole  of  life,  facet  and  facet, 
even  though,  to  a  greater  extent  than  the  Short  Story, 
they  ape  the  multiplicity  of  actual  experience.  What  of 
the  so-called  impressionistic  school  of  which,  in  English 
at  least,  Henry  James  is  the  head?  If  you  examine  his 
Washi7igto?i  Square,  you  will  find  it  to  be  a  love 
story  of  some  length  and  of  actual  manners,  a  novel, 
indeed,  according  to  definition,  and  yet  every  incident, 
every  detail,  every  bit  of  description  is  focused  upon 
the  relation  between  the  dull  and  faithful  Catherine  and 


23 


The  Short  Story 

her  lover,  the  brilliant  but  unsteady  Maurice  Townsend, 
The  story  covers  the  life  of  the  "^irl  to  middle  a<;e,  yet 
there  is  onlv  one  point  of  view,  and,  at  the  end,  one  im- 
pression. But  this  impression  is  not  the  result  of  the 
fusion  of  numerous  observations,  each  drawn,  as  in  real 
life,  from  some  attitude,  action,  or  remark  upon  char- 
acter. This  is  the  method  of  RoJiiola  and  of  The 
Egoist,  but  in  Washington  Square  it  is  attained  by 
the  presentation  of  certain  incidents  selected  from  the 
girl's  life-story.  To  use  a  geological  figure,  Henry 
James  follows  a  single  vein  throughout  its  course  by 
means  of  an  occasional  outcrop.  Among  foreigners, 
Turgenieff  has  done  notable  work,  which  must  be 
regarded  from  this  view-point.  His  Minnu  is  the 
story  of  the  brute  love  of  a  gigantic  serf  Garassim  for 
first  a  woman,  and  then  a  dog.  The  interest  of  the 
story  centres  entirely  in  this  love  and  the  character  of 
which  it  is  a  result.  The  Diary  of  a  Superfluous  Man 
wonderfully  presents  a  weak-willed,  conceited  lover, 
doing  no  work  in  the  world  and  aware  of  it,  but  hunger- 
ing for  the  tribute  of  praise  and  affection  v/hich  only 
one  worth  it  can  gain.  This  is  a  life-story  from  birth  to 
death,  but  this  unfortunate's  character,  or  lack  of  it, 
can  be  thoroughly  illustrated  in  the  course  of  his  short 
love  affair,  and  consequently  the  incidents  selected  are 
nearly  all  from  that  event  itself,  or  preparatory  to  it,  or 
in  summary  of  what  it  has  shown.  Select  certain  pas- 
sages regarding  Levin  from  Anna  Karc'nina,  and  you 
could  construct  a  companion  piece.  These  'impression- 
istic novels'  and  their  class,  to  some  extent  an  interme- 
diate form  between  the  novel  of  the  Vanity  Fair  type 
and  the  Short  Story,  may  perhaps  be  looked  upon  as 
expanded  Short  Stories,  and  belonging  to  their  genus. 
Without  the  concentration  of  that  instrument  and  the 
resulting  vividness,  they  are  told  with  a  like  view,  and  a 
like  selection  of  those  facts  v/hich  are  at  the  base  of  all 
narration. 


24 


The  Short  Story 

But  in  the  novel  which  attempts  to  give  a  natural 
picture  of  the  various  sides  of  life  there  is  a  point  of 
view  which  differs  from  that  of  the  Short  Story.  If  the 
name  had  not  already  been  appropriated,  I  should  like 
to  say  the  historical  novel,  because  in  this  respect  it 
follows  the  methods  of  history.  The  'ubiquitous  novel' 
it  has  been  called,  I  believe,  and  this  expresses  the  dis- 
tinction which  results  in  another  structure  and  another 
treatment  from  that  of  the  Short  Story. 

The  primal  difference  lies  in  the  way  the  authors 
view  their  crude  materials,  which  is  to  say  the  life  about 
them.  While  the  novel  writer,  even  one  of  the  im- 
pressionistic type,  aims  at  an  eminently  natural  method 
of  transcription,  the  author  of  the  Short  Story  adopts  a 
ver}'-  artificial  one.  His  endeavor  is  to  give  a  striking 
narrative  picture  of  one  phase  of  the  situation  or  the 
character,  as  the  case  may  be.  His  aim  is  toward  a 
strip  lengthwise,  disregarding  much  that  a  cro^s-section 
might  show.  He  deals  with  a  series  of  incidents, 
closely  related  to  one  another  but  not  at  all  to  the  by- 
play of  life  which,  in  reality,  must  accompany  them. 
He  treats  of  a  mood  always  existing,  but  in  the  story 
supremely  indicated ;  perhaps  of  an  adventure  or  a 
catastrophe,  which  differs  from  the  denouement  of  a  novel 
in  that  the  interest  is  concentrated:  the  cause  is  in  the 
hero's  character,  ready-made  for  the  occasion;  the  results 
are  in  the  circumstances  of  the  tale.  If  all  narration 
amounts,  as  critics  say,  merely  to  a  simplification  of  ex- 
perience, imaginative  or  real,  then  a  Short  vStory  is  sim- 
plification to  the  highest  degree.  We  are  selecting  far 
more  than  in  a  novel,  and  this  because  we  are  looking 
only  for  the  chain  of  related  incidents  that  go  to  make 
up  one  event.  We  are  picking  out  the  steps  that  make 
the  tragedy,  as  in  Maupassant's  famous  tale  'La  Parure,' 
or  in  Bret  Harte's  'The  Outcasts  of  Poker  Flat';  we 
are  looking  only  for  what  bears  upon  our  narrow  purpose, 
that   the  interest   may   be   concentrated,  and  the   con- 

25 


The   Short   Story 

ception  vivified,  beyond  the  power  of  a  novel.  The 
process  is  very  artificial,  but  very  powerful ;  it  is  like 
turning  a  telescope  upon  one  nebula  in  the  heavens. 
Thus  it  is  the  standpoint  of  the  author  that  makes  the 
distinction  between  a  short  novel,  always  excepting  the 
impressionistic  variety,  and  a  long  Short  Story.  In  the 
one  the  writer  digests  life-histories,  or  portions  of  them; 
in  the  other  he  looks  only  for  the  episode,  which,  like 
the  bubble  on  the  stream,  is  part  of,  and  yet  distinguished 
from,  the  main  current.  Recognizing  the  futility  in  cer- 
tain cases,  and  the  needlessness  in  others,  of  expressing 
the  whole  truth,  he  succeeds  much  better  with  the  half. 
He  foregoes  completeness  and  gains  in  force,  and  this 
by  a  change  in  the  standpoint  from  which  he  views  his 
world  of  fact  and  fancy. 

Evidence  that  the  Short  Story  and  the  novel  are  not 
products  of  the  same  artistic  process  has  been  sought 
in  the  frequent  inability  of  writers  of  good  Short  Stories 
to  construct  equally  good  novels,  and  if  this  argument  is 
not  pushed  too  far  it  is  a  good  one.  Hawthorne,  per- 
haps, certainly  Maupassant  and  Kipling,  men  who  made 
their  literary  reputation  by  their  Short  Stories,  found, 
and  in  the  case  of  Kipling  and  his  Kim,  still  find, 
difficulty  with  the  longer  form  of  the  story.  Bjornson 
had  trouble  in  handling  his  novels.  Flags  are  Flying 
in  Toivn  and  Harbor,  and  In  God's  Way,  and  much 
more  testimony  of  the  same  character  may  be  gathered. 
But  there  is  much  to  be  said  against  an  absolute  state- 
ment, for  Tolstoi,  Dickens,  and  many  other  great  nov- 
elists have  succeeded  with  the  Short  Story,  and  the  ex- 
cellence of  Stevenson's  unfinished  Weir  of  Hertniston 
is  evident  even  in  the  fragment  which  he  gave  us.  It  is 
safe  to  say  no  more  than  that  the  writer  of  Short  Stories 
finds  it  generally  difficult,  and  sometimes  impossible,  to 
enlarge  his  conceptions  and  broaden  and  lengthen  his 
action  to  the  scope  which  the  novel  demands,  with  this 
statement  in  reverse  equally  true  for  the  novelists.     But 

26 


The  Short  Story 

this  is  just  what  might  be  expected  if,  as  I  have  endeav- 
ored to  show,  it  is  true  that  the  difference  between  the 
modes  lies  in  the  point  of  view.  For  if  the  writer,  who 
aside  from  his  artistic  faculty  is  after  all  merely  a  tran- 
scriber, gifted  with  the  power  of  observation  and 
granted  the  right  of  selection  from  what  he  sees,  should 
look  always  for  the  essential  facts  that  make  up  his 
single  episode  and  produce  his  impression,  he  might  see 
only  Short  Stories  in  the  life  about  him,  and  find  it  as 
difficult  to  adjust  his  vision  to  a  different  perspective 
as  the  forester  who  looks  only  for  single  trees,  their 
height  and  kind,  and  now  would  wish,  with  artist's  eye, 
to  comprehend  the  curves  and  colors  in  the  wide  sweep 
of  the  mountain  forest. 

To  sum  up  briefly  what  has  been  said  heretofore,  it 
might  be  asserted  that  what  is  loosely  called  the  modern 
Short  Story  seems  to  differ  from  the  old  tale  by  a  very 
scientific  adaptation  of  means  to  end,  which  end  may  be 
called  vividness,  and  by  a  structure  which,  in  its  nice 
proportions  and  potentiality  for  adequate  expression,  is 
a  more  excellent  instrument  than  anything  the  old  tale 
can  show.  Also,  and  this  is  true  only  of  a  more  definite 
group  which  could  be  called  the  typical  Short  Story, 
through  the  source,  which  is  an  impression  or  impressions, 
and  the  purpose,  which  is  to  fitly  convey  these  im- 
pressions as  well  as  to  tell  a  story.  'Ruth' will  do  very 
well  as  an  example  of  the  tale,  'The  Purloined  Letter' 
as  a  tale  done  into  Short  Story  form,  and  'The  White 
Old  Maid,' or 'A  Lodging  for  the  Night,' or 'Without 
Benefit  of  Clergy,'  for  the  typical  Short  Story.  If  it  is 
necessary  to  say  what  characterizes  all  of  the  shorter 
stories  now  being  written,  I  should  suggest  that  it  is  an 
attempt  at  greater  vividness,  and  this  attempt  is  made 
largely  through  those  practices  in  composition  which  the 
endeavor  to  convey  fitly  an  impression  has  brought 
into  common  use. 

In  a  comparison  with  the  novel,  we  may  take  all  these 

27 


The   Short   Story 

shorter  stories,  and  say  that  the  difference  lies  in  the 
point  of  view — provided  that  the  novel  be  of  that  class 
which  aims  at  a  natural  transcription  of  all  sides  of 
life,  as  does  MiddUinarch  or  Vanity  Fair.  On  the 
other  hand,  it  may  be  said  that  the  Short  Story  differs 
from  the  'impressionistic'  novel  in  concentration  only. 
That  literary  variety  strikes  deeper,  goes  further;  but 
the  Short  Story  is  intended  for  surface  work;  it  is 
formed  to  catch  and  record  the  striking  things,  and  make 
them  more  striking.  It  is  a  precipitate  of  the  important 
things  from  the  general  solution,  and  as  such  has  a  force 
distinctively  its  own  and  a  form  as  distinctive,  which, 
through  the  efforts  of  the  great  men  who  have  labored 
with  it,  has  been  developed  to  gain  and  to  exercise  its 
power. 

III. 

New  developments  in  literature  do  not  arise  nor 
become  popular  without  reason.  There  are  causes,  artistic 
and  otherwise,  for  tlie  present  blossoming  of  the  Short 
Story,  causes  which  in  themselves  differ  from  those 
which  have  made  the  novel  flourish.  In  a  time  of  much 
writing,  tastes  are  quickly  jaded,  and  the  vShort  Story, 
because  it  is  terse,  striking,  highly-colored,  and  some- 
what new,  meets  with  quick  applause.  Its  brevity  is  of 
advantage,  for  many  people  can  be  made  to  swallow 
good  literature  in  a  pill  who  reject  it  in  larger  doses. 
But  the  class  of  readers  thus  gained  accounts  less 
for  the  literary  development  of  the  tale  than  for  the  vast 
number  of  poor  short  stories  now  breeding  manifold. 
Such  a  clientele  can  increase  the  production,  and  will 
usually  debase  the  quality,  of  any  form  of  literary  en- 
deavor, as  the  attitude  of  the  prurient-minded  populace 
of  the  Restoration  increased  and  debased  the  output  of 
the  contemporary  dramatists.  Unintelligent  apprecia- 
tion is  not  likely  to  be  responsible  for  a  high  develop- 

28 


The  Short  Story 

ment  in  art.  That  there  has  been  an  artistic  advance, 
and  a  great  one,  in  story  telling,  needs  for  illustration 
only  a  comparison  of  a  Blackwood's  tale  of  the  30's  and 
a  Kipling  Indian  stor5^ 

The  old  desire  for  something  new  and  more  pungent 
would  account  for  the  encouragement  which  this  new 
development  has  received.  And  there  is  an  undoubted 
need,  in  a  generation  whose  life  is  greatly  varied  by 
widely-diffused  knowledge  and  extensive  intercommuni- 
cation, for  the  vivid  expression  of  little  things.  This 
would  add  another  impulse.  But  a  literary  structure 
which  displays  the  greatest  nicety  of  form  to  be  found 
outside  the  domain  of  poetry  indicates  some  more 
aesthetic  cause  than  those  so  far  mentioned.  In  simple 
truth,  the  Short  Story  has  attained  a  wonderful  perfec- 
tion because  wonderful  men  have  worked  with  and 
through  it.  It  has  just  come  into  its  own.  In  the  England 
of  the  30's,  publishers  would  not  look  upon  anything 
less  than  a  volume  in  fiction  as  a  serious  literary  effort — 
and  they  preferred  three  volumes.  It  was  only  in  the 
first  half  of  the  last  century  that  Irving,  Hawthorne, 
and  Poe  in  America  began  the  cult  of  the  tale.  Copp6e's 
search  for  the  inevitable  word,  and  Maupassant's  refine- 
ment of  the  conte,  came  later  still.  The  Short  Story  was 
adapted  to  the  needs  of  the  time  and  the  tastes  of  the 
people.  Men  of  genius  found  through  it  a  new  voice, 
and  the  attempt  to  perfect,  to  give  laws  and  a  form  to 
the  instrument,  progressed  because  of  the  men  who 
tried.  In  pre-Hawthornian  times  these  authors  employed 
the  tale  for  the  by-products  of  their  minds;  since  then 
it  has  served  to  express  some  of  the  great  conceptions  of 
their  genius.  It  is  this  which  best  accounts  for  the 
chastening  of  its  form. 

Except  in  one  instance,  which  is  the  vivid  expression 
of  single  incidents  or  detached  movements  in  life,  the 
Short  Story  is  not  to  be  chosen  before  the  novel ;  but  in 
its    capacity  for   perfection  of  structure,    for    nice   dis- 

29 


The  Short  Story 

crimination  in  means,  and  for  a  satisfying  exposition  of 
the  full  power  of  words,  it  is  much  sui^erior  to  the  novel, 
and  can  rank  only  below  the  poem.  But  the  novel  and 
the  Short  Story  are  distinct  instruments,  differently 
designed,  for  diverse  needs.  And  with  such  a  point  of 
view  it  is  impossible  not  to  grant  to  the  latter  a  separate 
use  and  classification. 


30 


I  innAWV 


YALE  STUDIES  IN  ENGLISH 

Albert  S.   Cook,   Editor 

I.     The  Foreign  Sources  of   Modern  English 

Versification.    Charlton  M.  Lewis,  Ph.D.     $0.50 

II.  ^Ifric :  A  New  Study  of  his  Life  and  Writ- 
ings.    Caroline  Louisa  White,  Ph.D.      .       1.50 

III.  The  Life  of  St.  Cecilia,  from  MS.  Ashmole 

43  and  MS.  Cotton  Tiberius  E.  VII,  with 
Introduction,  Variants,  and  Glossary. 
Bertha  Ellen  Lovewell,   Ph.D.        .         .        i.oo 

IV.  Dryden's  Dramatic  Theory  and   Practice. 

Margaret  Sherwood,  Ph.D.     .         .         .         .50 

V.     Studies   in   Jonson's    Comedy.      Elisabeth 

Woodbridge,  Ph.D.  .         .         .         .         .50 

VI.  A  Glossary  of  the  West  Saxon  Gospels, 
Latin- West  Saxon  and  West  Saxon-Latin. 
Mattie  Anstice  Harris,  Ph.D.  .         .        1.50 

VII.  Andreas:  The  Legend  of  St.  Andrew, 
translated  from  the  Old  English,  with 
an  Introduction.     Robert  Kilburn  Root         .50 

VIII.  The  Classical  Mythology  of  Milton's  Eng- 
lish Poems.  Charles  Grosvenor  Osgood, 
Ph.D 1.00 

IX.  A  Guide  to  the  Middle  English  Metrical 
Romances  dealing  with  English  and  Ger- 
manic Legends,  and  with  the  Cycles  of 
Charlemagne  and  of  Arthur.  Anna  Hul  t 
Billings,  Ph.D 1.50 

X.  The  Earliest  Lives  of  Dante,  translated 
from  the  Italian  of  Giovanni  Boccaccio 
and  Lionardo  Bruni  Aretino.  James 
Robinson  Smith       .         .         .         .         .         .75 

XI.     A  Study  in  Epic  Development.     Irene  T. 

Myers,  Ph.D,  .         .         .         .         .1.00 

XII.     The   Short   Story.      Henry  Seidel  Canby         .30 


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